


Blades of a Psychopath

by Highly-Functioning-Sociopath (Improvqueen)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ankle Cuffs, Blood, Bondage, Cock Rings, Collars, Dom/sub Play, Handcuffs, Jim being Jim, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Painplay, Slash, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Improvqueen/pseuds/Highly-Functioning-Sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim takes revenge on Seb for breaking his favorite coffee mug. Seb can't decide whether he likes this punishment or not. Mormor smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blades of a Psychopath

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these endearing psychopaths, unfortunately. If I did, I would have much better things to do then write about them all day! Please let me know what you think!

The kill hadn’t taken long, but it had been messier than Seb would have liked it to have been. He was walking through the streets, working his way back to the flat through the bitter cold. He could feel the thick layer of blood covering his front freezing slowly under the heavy trench coat he was wearing, but he would have to wait until he was home to wash it off. He really couldn’t recall when he had started calling Jim’s flat ‘home’, but somewhere along the way it had happened. Even if it was against Seb’s better judgement. It was as Jim said, so it simply was. He had long since accepted that fact.

A cab drove by, slowing dramatically as it passed Seb. He let it pass though; knowing that Jim would be angry that his kill hadn’t exactly been clean. He had been ordered to take out the father while he was alone; but how was Seb to have known that his children would be there, having an impromptu story time with their father? The heavy blinds had made it impossible to get a good sight line for shooting, so Seb had been forced to go in with his knife. He felt bad about the children, but it had been necessary. He felt the guilt, but he pushed it away before it could take root, pushing it to the back of his mind along with his childhood memories and such. The ones he never thought about, so that they couldn’t bother him. 

His time at war had helped to harden him, making him forget the bad things, or just not feel them anymore. Reducing him to basic, carnal instinct for survival, not even a man anymore. It had been Jim who had built him back into a man from an untamed beast, though Jim had been sure to leave some beast, some instinct to fight, in his little tiger. Jim liked the fight. But Seb had to be trained, disciplined enough to do jobs and be presentable in public for Jim. Jim still liked to train him, to discipline, to tease, to break him every once in a while. But he was careful to always put him back together again afterwards. Always. Jim wouldn’t want to lose a toy, would he? Because that’s what Seb was. He was a toy to be used and then put back together again and used again when Jim got bored. But Seb didn’t really mind.

Seb reached the back steps, since he had long since stopped using the front steps (especially when he was covered in blood that was visible in the light). He pushed the door open quietly, but didn’t bother trying to hide the fact that he was home. It was no use, since Jim seemed to know everything that went on around here. He flipped on the hall light and squinted through the sudden brightness, walking in a few steps before he heard Jim’s voice ring out.

“You aren’t really thinking of coming in to my flat with your shoes covered in blood, are you, Sebby darling?” he stopped short, the man’s level of perception never failing to amaze him. He slipped off his shoes and placed them on the rack before glancing at the still-damp blood covering his socks. “Oh, and darling, if your socks are messy, put on some slippers. I just had the floor waxed.”

Seb sighed and looked for slippers, knowing Jim knew now that the job had been messy. The only pair on the rack were hot pink and fluffy. He sighed a bit deeper as he pulled them on, wondering now if the maniac hadn’t planned this whole thing. He knew the slippers were planned though; Jim must have bought them specially to humiliate him. But he would go along with it; there was no way he would get away with tracking blood onto the beige Persian carpet. Not that Jim would care about wasted money, but because of the punishment that would go along with making Jim pick out a new rug. Though perhaps he should track blood on it, for the punishment… Not tonight though. Jim probably had another job for him, knowing the number of takedowns he had been doing lately. Last week there had been 22. Just over three per day. He had only done one today though, so there would be more. Bed would have to wait. 

Seb walked into the living room where there was a steaming cup of tea sitting on the table. Jim was nowhere in sight, though he was around, Seb knew it. But clearly he wanted Seb to sit down on the couch, so Seb did. Picking up the tea and saucer, he sipped on it absently as he wondered about the next kill he would have to do, if Jim would be kind enough to give him an open-and-shut sniping job for a change. The sniper loved his shooting jobs the best- no matter how satisfying twisting a knife in someone’s stomach and watching the blood run hot over your fingers was, the soft click of a trigger and the whistle of a bullet through the air was a thousand times better. The clean shot, the muffled snap of the hammer, and the glass breaking in the window as the skull burst open on the other side and the showered it with droplets of scarlet liquid. Then the easy, quick cleanup and the sex when he got home. 

Perhaps Seb should go clean up… But he couldn’t muster the energy. He was exhausted, fully drained. His arms felt like lead at his sides, and he lowered his teacup to the saucer in confusion as his hand began to fumble its grip. This was strange; Seb was always steady, even when he was exhausted, his sniper hands never faltered in their aim or grip. But now… Oh, curse Jim. Seb finally woke up enough to detect the slight medicinal odour to the amber liquid in the cup, the sedative that had been prepared. It wasn’t a long-lasting one, just intended to knock a man out for a few minutes. Seb should know, he had used the stuff enough for kidnappings. Jim… Seb’s thoughts began to fog over as he set the teacup on the table and wondered what had provoked Jim this time, or if it was anything at all. He fought to stay awake. He had drunk too much though, and by this time it was too late. As he lay down on the couch, only half out of the knowledge that it would hurt less than falling on the floor, he heard soft footsteps come towards him from the kitchen.

“Sebby darling, close your eyes. Don’t fight it, you know you can't.” Jim stood in front of him, a look in his eyes that Seb almost would have mistaken for love, but it was hunger and Seb knew it. A delightful, twisted hunger that would soon devour him. “I’ll take care of you, naughty kitty.”  
Seb closed his eyes and the world faded into nothing, but Seb squeezed out a last “Fuck you” before he let go. He could have sworn he heard Jim giggle with glee, knowing there was nothing he couldn’t do to Seb now.

***

His senses floated slowly back to Seb, but years in the military had trained him to not give anything away. First, he heard sound. But that wasn’t much, simply his own breathing and the sound of Jim pacing in front of him. Then, smell. Blood was the most poignant, mixed with sweat and detergent. He could feel his arms cuffed above his head, and he could tell he was standing due to the pressure on his ankles from being spread apart. Likely tied as well, though he didn’t try to move them at all. His shirt was still on, so that would be the source of the bloody smell. His trousers were intact as well, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t last long. The taste of the sedative lingered on his tongue, a sharp and wholly unwelcome taste. His sight only helped him when his eyes were open though, so he couldn’t use that now. Preserve himself a few more moments of comfort. 

“I know you're awake, you cock sucking son of a whore. Open your bloody eyes or I will make them bloody in the literal sense.” Jim sounded nonchalant, but that was when he was the most dangerous. Mad was anger, something Seb could use and manipulate. Nonchalant was cold and calculating, Jim’s mind at its best. This was when Sebastian truly feared him. He slowly opened his eyes, just in time to see Jim’s open palm coming towards his face. He didn’t try to avoid the impact, but tried his best to absorb it and not to make a sound. He managed not to pay attention to the smart of the slap, raising his eyes to look into Jim’s.

Seb could feel his right check turning pink, the blood rushing the surface of his skin, and a bit welling up through the small cuts Jim’s nails had left. They were in the bedroom, but Jim had gotten creative. Seb was still fully clothed, but his wrists were indeed cuffed to a small hook newly installed in the ceiling, while his feet were spread apart by a spreader bar and shackled in. The worst tease was that Jim had hung the key to his shackles around Seb’s own neck, though he could do nothing to reach them. Fucking tease. Seb thought as he watched Jim pace before him, a small knife in hand and more things laid out behind him. He must have had someone go shopping for him. 

Jim wandered up to Seb, his slow, lazy pace setting Seb’s nerves on edge. He couldn’t defend himself, and though he knew that was the point, he still hated this part. Always. It made him feel young again, vulnerable, the worst feeling he knew. And Jim, the fucker, knew exactly how he felt. And the bastard took pleasure in making him feel this way. Jim stopped a foot away from him, leaning forward and whispering by Sebastian’s ear.

“You chipped my favorite mug last night, washing the dishes, sweetheart. I liked that mug Sebby, I really did.” Jim’s voice was sickly sweet, and if Seb didn’t know Jim so well he would think the hurt, the pain in his voice was real and not a calculated play by an audacious criminal. As it was, Seb was not happy. He was a caged tiger, and caged animals bite. So Seb darted his head forward and nearly caught Jim’s ear, but the consulting criminal had predicted this. He was already just out of reach, and his teeth snapped on empty air. His arms pulled on the cuffs, sending shooting pain down his back and chaffing his wrists. He bit back a groan, but he had experienced worse. He half hoped that Jim wouldn’t think of anything he hadn’t seen before, but the other half of his brain, the sick, twisted half, wished Jim would. And more likely than not, the second part would get its wish. 

Seb looked down, knowing he was supposed to show remorse and playing along. But Jim took the small knife and placed the sharp tip under his chin, lifting it to make him look at Jim again. He didn’t break the skin yet, but came awfully close to it. Jim smiled a slightly unhinged smile before dragging the knife down the front of Seb’s shirt in one smooth, quick motion, slicing cleanly through the blood-soaked fabric and leaving just the faintest line of red bubbling up from Seb’s chest and stomach, perfectly in line with where the shirt was split. Seb sucked in his breath sharply, the sting of the knife more than it should have been. It was coated with something, something that made it burn and feel like he was being torn apart from the seams. 

“Fuck, Jim. It was a cup. Can't we just skip the pain?” Even as he said it though, Seb could feel his cock half-hardening in his trousers. What could he help it if he got off on this? But Jim quickly slashed gently across his chest, drawing another very faint line of blood but causing the same terrible sensation. Seb’s knees gave out slightly, leaving him hanging by his wrists until he regained his footing.

“It was my favorite cup, Sebby. And you have to pay for the fucking first.” Jim brought the knife down to Seb’s crotch, ghosting it lightly over the covered cock and causing Seb to writhe away violently. Seb didn’t want that thing anywhere near his dick, and he wasn’t about to just let Jim away with anything with a knife down there. “Now Sebby, you wouldn’t want my knife to… Slip, now, would you?”

As he said this, Jim slowly traced the knife around Seb’s waist, not breaking the skin at all but letting him feel the cold, hard metal brushing his pale skin. Seb shivered but held very still as Jim slid the knife inside his trousers and sliced. The shredded trousers, but not the pants underneath, were soon in the corner of the room. The blood-soaked shirt soon followed, after a few more slices of the knife. Only his pants remained, and they were beginning to become painfully tight as Seb tried to think of what was yet to come. Jim grinned at the sight of his rapidly swelling erection.

“Oh, you little whore, you're already almost coming and we haven’t even gotten started yet…” Jim trotted over to the bedside table and riffled around in a drawer before retrieving a very small leather cockring and bringing it back over. Jim pulled down his underwear and took in the swollen cock in front of him. “Oh Sebby, standing at attention already. Stuck in the military, aren’t we? Well, not time to shoot yet, Colonel.” 

At the use of his rank, Seb had to bite back on his lip and think of something unpleasant to keep from coming already. Jim slid the leather cockring on and strapped it in place around his balls, securing it and denying Seb any pleasure he had been getting from the pain. Seb tried, but didn’t succeed, in supressing a groan. Jim was straightening up, picking up the knife again before looking Seb over with a critical eye. 

“Such a marvellous, blank, utterly devoid canvas, don’t you think darling?” Jim walked behind Seb, dragging the knife under his ribs with the flat edge of the blade, teasing relentlessly. “I think we should change that now.” 

Jim brought the knife to Seb’s skin like he would a pen, and before Seb knew it the piercing pain of the coated blade was back, bringing agony, tearing him into a million pieces. He gritted his teeth and bit his lip, letting out a strangled cry as Jim worked. It was over his left shoulder blade now, but it was moving in smooth motions over to his right. It felt as though his entire back was on fire and recovering from frostbite at the same time, like tiny claws and teeth were tearing at the edges of each millimetre of the long, thin cut. In reality, Jim was only drawing a bit of blood, but the blade was made to sting and scar. It did its job well. Seb didn’t even notice that his knees had stopped working; his pain was only made greater by the skin on his back stretching as he was held up by his shoulders and wrists. 

Jim stepped back to admire his handiwork. There, in cursive letters across Seb’s back, were the two strings of letters, marking Seb as his own. Jim Moriarty. He briefly considered adding the words property of to the canvas, but decided he wanted Sebby still usable for tonight. Because he had been planning, and Seb would need to have some endurance left for what he had in store. Plenty of endurance.

**Author's Note:**

> More coming soon, once I actually have time to write it. Shouldn't take too long, hopefully.


End file.
